Time is Relative
by Walking with Kings
Summary: AU, scientific!Harry. First person POV, for most of the story. Is it so wrong to want to be normal? To just live your life like everyone else? Apparently so.
1. Resonance

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own anything that anyone else wrote. But this story is mine. Don't steal it, please. Or I'll eat your soul.

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To whomever finds this letter,

I miss the blue roses, the smell of the Forest of Silence in springtime, and the house at the bottom of the Whispering Mountains where I grew up. I miss the gentle breeze in the summer, the warm pools on the Blue Continent, and all the winters I spent as a child, running through the snow. I miss so many things. The tapestries at the Academy that I studied so long ago, when my only fears were that I may not be prepared for my exams, or that I may not get into the University at the Solar City, even though I knew I was always at the top of my class.

Those things seem so important to me now. So important and so very, very long ago. Oh, how I miss those days. Those days of friendly banter, of carefree existence. Those days of music in the foyer of my parents home, and of laughter. The days when I did not have to run.

It seems that I have been running all of my life. This long, long life. I have gone through so many faces, lived so many lives, seen so many things, but in the end I am still running. Always running, never stopping. One foot in front of the other, never looking back, for fear of what I will see. For fear that I will see all of those damning eyes, glaring at me from beyond the void. From beyond the dead planet, from beyond the empty universe, across the stars, and back again. All of those dead eyes, following wherever I go. Never blinking, never ceasing, never falling an inch behind me, no matter how far I run.

I can never run far enough to escape my guilt. This I have accepted. It will always follow me, and I shall live for the rest of my days with my guilt lingering on top of me, oppressing me, never allowing me to feel enough happiness to be truly content with my lot in life.

I have lived for so long. So many long, long years. And yet I look as young now as I did those many years ago. I appear as young as I did back in my parents' summer home. As young as I appeared inside the Academy. This face has always stared back at me in the mirror. Always there, never faltering. With every blink, I hope that my face will change, that I will not have to stare into this face that stirs up so many memories. Memories of better times, and memories of not forgotten horrors.

My people, my brothers, my family, my _species _mastered the science of tampering with time, created things which twisted the very fabric of nature, built weapons which destroyed entire civilizations, and yet they could not save themselves from me. I brought an end to one of the greatest acts of evolution, and for that I am guilty. I can never repent enough for the crimes that I have committed.

So I will keep running. I will run so far that my own mind will be lost in the shuffle. I will never remember the things which have drove me to this point. I will run so far that no science can bring my memories back. My people are long gone, and so there will be no hope of bringing my memories back. For this I am grateful.

If you find this letter, it means that I have gone through with my plan, and that it was either successful, or I am dead. This letter contains my final words as the last of my species;

"_Omne ignotum pro magnifico."_

Pray to whatever god you believe in that I never regain my memories.

Signed,

The man formerly known as Harry Potter

(I have no idea what my name will be after I 'lose' my memory. Should be fun.)

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AN: This is a prologue, of sorts. I wanted to write a story about science and kinda-sorta-aliens. Next chapter will be longer, I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction, so forgive me if there are issues with it. Review and let me know what you think. Critiques are extremely welcome.

And the Disclaimer stands for all chapters, current and future.

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Chapter 1;

December 14, 1997

_ "-Freak-"_

_ "-So weird..."_

_ "Little know-it-all thinks he's so good-"_

I sighed, once more. I got these things all the time. Every day, every week, every month, every year since I started attending Harvard University. I mean, _really_, it wasn't my fault that I was just _that _smart, was it? Not _my_ fault that I was a sixteen-year-old in college, right? I could blame my biological parents, but that wouldn't get me anywhere. And so I didn't. Well, not much at least.

12:59:46:32. 00:00:13:68 until I was late for class. Oh, I'm extremely good at keeping time, did I mention that? Just another thing that sets me apart from the rest of my classmates. As if I needed anything else to help with that.

They gave me grand titles, such as _prodigy_, and _genius,_ but really, all I am is a _freak_. An IQ higher than any on record, but completely normal in all biological aspects. Hell, I even had average looks! Just a plain ol' kid. Black hair, green eyes, average height. Nothing special, not even slightly unique. You know, except the whole _freaky-genius _thing.

I just wanted to be _normal_, and go to school just like everyone else. So I tried to be normal. Went to class, studied, had a job, didn't do drugs. Isn't that what normal kids do? I was just trying to be normal. An exercise in futility, I'm sure, but it's worth a shot, damn it. Even if it ends badly. Is it so wrong that I want to be treated _normally_ for once in my life? It is? Oh well, it's still worth a shot.

12:59:47:90. I was almost to class. And almost late, by most standards. But not by my standards. I had left myself with _plenty_ of margin to get to class.

'The best laid plans' and all that, I suppose. I probably should have figured out by now that when I'm not paying attention, idiotic people tend to find me. And so one did. Well, three did.

Popular kids, all three, all part of the football team, which meant all _slightly_ terrifying to me. Just slightly. I wasn't completely and utterly _scared_ of them. No, not at all.

12:59:50:03.

"Hey, kid, watch where you're goin'," Jock-number-one said.

12:59:52:71.

"Please, I just want to get to class," I mumbled, staring down at my shoes, hoping to any deity that might be listening that they would just _leave me alone._

"I said watch where you're goin', _kid_," Jock-number-one replied as he rammed his shoulder into mine, causing my to drop my books and throw my hands behind me in attempt to brace my fall. I wasn't fast enough. I hit the ground hard, and kept falling back, hitting my head on the unforgiving concrete floor.

Jock-number-two and Jock-number-three both laughed as I cried out in pain. I clutched my head for a moment before attempting to stand. I felt a bit woozy, not a good sign, but still I stood.

12:59:59:24.

"_Please,_ just let me past. I just want to go to class. I haven't even done anything to you!" I almost yelled, hating the futility of it all, hating myself for not being _stronger _than these_ two-bit, arrogant assholes _who were_ blocking my way._

Too late. 01:00:13:42. I was already late. For the first time in my college career.

"Aw, is little baby gonna cry?" Jock-number-two mocked, pushing me into the wall with a shove. I hit my head _again, _and I fell to the ground. As my vision gave way to the sweet, sweet darkness of unconsciousness, I heard a female voice near-screech from what seemed to be miles away.

_"What do you idiots think you're doing?"_

_

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_

Hermione Granger was a person who believed in doing the right thing. And if she didn't know what the right thing was, she would ask a teacher. That is how she saw the world, there were right things, and there were wrong things. Right was doing your homework, being respectful, not doing drugs, and listening to your parents.

Right was _most certainly_ not pushing a kid into a wall. No, that was completely _wrong._ Her parents, her teachers, and all the books she had read on bullying agreed. So when she saw a bunch of older, bigger people pushing a skinny kid with glasses into a wall, she did the first thing that came to her mind.

"What do you idiots think you're doing?" She yelled at them, drawing the attention of a professor down the hall who rushed over to see what the commotion was about. She glared hatefully at the large men and moved down to assist the skinny boy up, until she noticed he was unconscious.

The professor noticed this as well.

"You three! Dean's office! _Now_!" He thundered, bringing himself up to his full height, which served to cow the three Jocks. He marched them down the corridor and out of sight after instructing Hermione to bring the boy to the Nurse at once.

She hesitated. Hermione was not by any means the strongest person physically. Ask her to solve a difficult math problem? No problem. Ask her was the capital of a country was? Easy. Ask her to lift something or run a mile? Not her forte.

Not to mention the fact that she didn't even go to this school and _had no idea where the Nurse's office was_!

She panicked for exactly 13 seconds before seeing her mother and father round the corner, looking at a brochure on the school's academic programs.

"Dad! Help!" She yelled at them. Her mother and father ran to where she was, and her father picked the boy up easily and asked her mother where the Nurse's office was. She opened another brochure and scanned it quickly before telling her father the way.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She really had no idea what to do in those kinds of situations. No idea at all. She sighed again and jogged to catch up to her father.

After all, she wanted to make sure he was okay. It was the right thing to do.

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I awoke in the Nurse's office three hours later, with a concussion. I was told to take it easy for the next week or so, before she hurried off to help someone else. She called out to someone out of my view and bustled toward them, and I turned my thoughts inward.

_Why do they have to pick on _me? I asked myself for what seemed like the millionth time during my Harvard career. Pessimistic thoughts flooded my adolescent mind, and I slipped into a depressed, brooding mood, staring at the pale, sterile walls that seemed to be stifling me, holding me down.

A voice to my left startled me, and I lashed out with one hand, using the other to propel myself off the bed, and I barely stayed on my feet as a wave of nausea struck me. Right, concussion. Bad idea. My eyes locked onto a middle aged man, and his family. To his credit, he did no more than block my hand from hitting his face. At least he didn't hit back. I was tense. I didn't know these people. _Why were they here_?

The girl standing beside her father, I assumed he was her father, at least, spoke softly, "It's okay, we're not here to hurt you. Calm down, and lie back on the bed, you shouldn't be moving around with a concussion."

I didn't move from where I was standing. "Who are you?"

The man was the one to answer; "We're the Grangers. My name is Anthony, this is my wife, Anna," he motioned to the woman beside him, "And this is our daughter, Hermione," He motioned to the girl who had told me to lie down.

"Harry." I replied with a curt nod. I took a couple deep breaths, trying to clam down. _He is not Ver—STOP. _I yelled inside my own mind as that name threatened to come to the surface. Another couple deep breaths and I addressed them again.

"Why are you here, Mr. and Mrs. Granger?" I inquired politely, sitting gingerly down on the bed.

As they explained what had happened after I blacked out, I found myself glancing at their daughter. She looked to be around my age, which meant she was probably here for a tour of the grounds, seeing if she wanted to attend this school after she graduated. Which, as it turned out, was true.

Hooray. I was right.

Truth be told, I wasn't really listening to what they were saying. They were dentists, blah blah blah, lived in London, blah blah blah, their daughter was a genius who was looking at this school, hoping to go here in a month, blah blah- Wait.

"In a month? But she's only around my age. She should have another year or two of high school left," I stated, cocking my head to the side questioningly.

"Ah, well, she's very smart, as I said. She worked her way out of high school as fast as she could," Mr. Granger said with a chuckle.

"Smart? Graduating at 16 or 17 and getting accepted at Harvard isn't _smart,_ it's _brilliant,_" I replied, looking at them like they were bat shit insane. "I mean, that means she's almost as smart as me!" I blurted, before realizing what I said. As horror dawned on me after my mind caught up with my mouth, I gasped and started to frantically apologize, but they just waved it off.

"We figured you were quite smart. I mean, you're here visiting this college, too, right? Have you been accepted already? When are you going to graduate high school? A couple of years yet, I would guess." I goggled at their daughter. She had said all of that so fast it was hard to keep up with, and all in one breath, too. Scary.

"I already go to school here. I graduated high school when I was 14. I've been studying here for two years." I tried to say it as fast as she did, but it didn't work as well for me as it did for her. Practice, I suppose.

They were silent for a moment, openly staring at me. I stared back defiantly. They seemed to realize that they were staring, as they quickly averted their eyes and blushed. Except for their daughter, who kept on staring, looking at me as if I was a fascinating science fair project.

Creepy.

* * *

_Blood. So much blood. So much destruction that I have wrought. My hands ache from the raw power that I have channeled. I have long since lost the need for my people's primitive methods of channeling our power. Wands are not necessary. They have never been necessary. They work only to lessen our power. But that was the purpose all along. _

_ Perhaps they saw my coming in the Pools of Sight. Perhaps this is what they have always feared. Long before the Exodus to this planet our people have used those wretched wands. Long before our people turned to science instead of 'Magic' they had been using wands. How far back does this suppressant go? It is impossible to know. _

_ But there is one thing I know. And I know it very well._

_ None of my people shall leave this planet alive._

_ Of this I am certain._

_

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_

December 20, 1997

I shook my head to clear the images from my lingering dream as I awoke. I really have to quit reading science fiction before bed. Space ships? Energy flying out of my hands? The very thought of it made me laugh a little. It sounded so much like Star Wars. And every other science fiction book. I chuckled again and lumbered out of bed, intent on making myself some breakfast.

A quick thought told me it was 05:00:12:29 AM. I had little to do today. Or for the rest of the week. It was Christmas break. Boring.

I took my finals a week ago. Aced them all, but then again, I hadn't expected anything less, really. I'm not conceited. I prefer to call myself 'Realistic.' I knew I would ace them. Because I have never _not _aced them.

I'm trying to convince myself. How cute.

Back to breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Delicious. Tears of Joy streamed from my eyes as I ate, so delicious it was! Boundless energy erupted in my veins and I felt as I could do anything I wanted, so delicious it was!

Just kidding.

But it was still pretty fucking delicious.

And that's pretty much how my morning went, really. I ate, I went to the bathroom, I took a shower. After that, I got dressed, and hauled my ass out the door to go to work.

Exciting, I know.

I worked at a small restaurant down the street from my apartment. A family run french eatery. I was just a waiter. But still, it was good money. Paid the bills.

As I walked into the building, I greeted the manager and the cooks, and I clocked in. Hooray.

I heard the bell on the door ring and I rushed out to greet the first customer of the day, and _of course_ it was that family. The... Grangers? Grangers, that was it. What a coincidence. Again. I would think they were stalking me, if they hadn't looked so surprised at seeing me there.

"Welcome to The Little Rabbit, if you'll just follow me, I'll get you seated right away," I led them away from the door to a cozy little booth, and the three of them filed in and sat down. I took their orders for drinks, and walked off to fetch them.

As I walked back, balancing the two coffees and a water on a tray, I wondered why they were back in the states. It's not like it was right next door to their home in London. Granted, it had only been six days since I last saw them in the Nurse's office inside Harvard, but surely they couldn't be away from their business forever, even if their daughter might be attending soon.

"Here you are, two coffees and a water. Have you decided on your meals yet?" I asked with the utmost professionalism.

They ordered, I delivered it when it had been cooked, and so it went. Nothing really interesting. It's not like their daughter kept staring at me. The entire time.

It was unnerving really. I was starting to think the girl never blinked. Well, obviously I knew she had to blink or her eyes would dry out. I was exaggerating.

Anyway, as they were leaving, the girl ran over to me and told me to call her sometime. To discuss school work. And she gave me her number.

What a weird girl.

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AN: There you have it. The first real chapter of this story. Review please!


	3. Chapter 3

I awoke to a pounding headache. It was that dream again. The same dream. Well, there were small differences every time, my age, the place, the people. But it was the same general dream.

And it was starting to piss me off.

Honestly, I have never really subscribed to the whole 'dreams are manifestations of your subconscious desires' thing. But lately I find myself wondering what _exactly_ a shrink would say if they saw what I see every night.

Probably commit me to an asylum.

Fuck that.

I yawned wide and sat up in bed, stretching as I rose. God that feels good. First stretch of the day? Always the best thing in the world, isn't it? Isn't it?

Well, who cares what you think. You're me.

Wait...

After that little existential dilemma, I (somehow) found the energy to get up and eat some cereal. And it was fucking delicious.

Not really.

School started tomorrow, and I couldn't wait. I could finally get back to doing what I did best. Learning.

But... Have you ever felt like everything you're learning is stuff you already know? And that hearing the lecture about it brings that information to the surface?

No? Huh.

As I walked past the counter in my kitchen, I saw her number again. Really, I supposed that, logically, I'd been putting off calling her for far too long. It had been nearly a month, after all, since she gave me her number at my place of employment. And it was only polite that I call a girl that gave me her number. She wasn't _that_ weird.

Well, she was, but she also wasn't too hard on the eyes.

And she had a nice body.

A very nice body.

What? I am a guy, you know.

I ended up calling her at around noon. She didn't answer. I didn't call back.

So, of course, _she_ calls me back.

"Why didn't you call a second time?" Is the first thing I hear when I answer the phone.

What? Is she trying to play 'hard to get' or something?

"I was playing 'hard to get'!"

Ah. It seems she was.

"Well, _your Highness_, I didn't know that-"-_Liar-"-_So why would I have called you back? Perhaps you were busy," I quipped, amused at the conversation. I mean, really. How often does a conversation like this happen?

I don't think it happens very often. Not to me at least.

And I still had a headache, now that I think of it.

Wait, was I thinking about that?

"Well, I _always_ call people a second time if they don't pick up the first time," She said, "I mean, I wait a few minutes first, to make sure they are done doing whatever it is that they were doing, and then of course, when they pick up, I have to ask what they were doing. I mean, what if they were doing drugs! Or something else that's illegal! Then, if they told me that, I would have to call the police. I mean, that's what you're supposed to do, right? Wait, have you been doing drugs?"

Honestly, I had tuned her out by the point that she said 'I mean,' the first time. And I heard a question at the end of her sentence, so naturally I said-

"Of course I am."

-Because I thought that maybe she had asked if I was listening.

Twenty minutes later found the police in my apartment, conducting a drug bust.

My answer, as I found out later, wasn't quite grammatically correct in conjunction with her question. Strange.

Needless to say, I didn't call her again.

_I always did like it when I could feel the power thrumming through my body on its way out. It had a way of giving me a rush that drugs can't compare to. The feeling of power you get when you reach out and _twist _reality to your will is unmatched by any drug I've tried to date._

_And I've tried every drug in the god-damned pharmacy, baby._

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School started again, and that feeling of _deja vu_ came back as strong as ever. I just feel... I just feel like I know all of this. Like I learned it so long ago. Like there is so much more out there.

I just want to leave this (_godforsaken third-rate planet_) country and go out into the world. Explore, you know?

Have you ever felt like you say something, but mean something else that you don't know you mean to mean?

I think that thought I was thinking confused me.

Erm...

Dance!

No, on second thought, that was a horrible way to distract you. My dancing is a thing of nightmares.

Aren't internal monologues fun?

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**AN: FIRST UPDATE IN FOREVER. AND OF _COURSE_ ITS MUCH SHORTER THAN ANYTHING YOU'VE EVER SEEEEEEEN~!**

**Ugh. I'm really, really sorry. I'm at Uni now, and I haven't had time to write anything. At all. Except tonight. And I wrote four chapters of my other story tonight, so I am just burned out. And I really should be studying for the finals I have in... 2 days. Psh. Fuck that.**

**Sorry, guys.**

**-Brandon.**


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